unpretty
by daisydazedays
Summary: -"Every time I think I'm through, it's because of you. I've tried different ways, but it's all the same. At the end of the day I have myself to blame." All Dylan Marvil ever wanted in life was to be pretty.  oneshot


**This is a bit of personal experience for me, and it was a relief to write. Dedicated to my sister, who has always made me feel unpretty. Christina, I wish you could be in my shoes for one day. **

_Unpretty_

/

Dylan Marvil ran her fingers through her short, fiery curls, glaring at herself in the full-body mirror. Her mother could buy her all the beauty products in the world and it wouldn't matter; she still wouldn't be pretty. For instance, one of her eyes was bigger than the other, and her nose was too big. She had too many freckles, nobody liked freckles anymore. Her red hair wasn't long enough, and all her friends had told her this many times.

The biggest flaw, the one that Dylan just couldn't seem to get rid of, was her weight. She had a fleshy stomach, large thighs that rubbed together when she walked, and chubby arms that jiggled a little whenever she waved them. She had been able to hide it all underneath large designer sweaters and jeans that made her legs look skinnier when it was still the winter. But it was the summer now, and she would have to start wearing those little fat-revealing shorts, and skimpy little tank tops that showed off her chubby arms way too much. And the bathing suits? Dylan shivered and then cringed.

"Dylan? Your little friends are waiting in the foyer."

She didn't turn to look at her older sister. She didn't want to see how pretty Jamie was. Jamie, with her long auburn locks and pretty mint-colored eyes and perfect size two waist. Jamie Marvil was easily the prettiest girl Dylan had ever seen in her entire life. She looked like a supermodel, like she belonged on runways in Paris during fashion week, not living with some little chubby seventh grader like Dylan herself. She also didn't want to go down the stairs to see her equally as pretty best friends. Massie looked like a young Miranda Kerr, Alicia looked like one of those girls you see in foreign paintings on the walls of cathedrals in Spain, and Kristen was toned and blonde, like a surfer girl. Even _Claire_ was pretty, with her cute face and skinny arms.

Like every other day, Dylan had to suck it up, suck it in, and act like it didn't affect her at all.

/

Laughter fills the air of the large food court in the Westchester Mall. The five girls all sit in the center of the room, four of them picking away at salads, and one of them shoving her mouth full of orange chicken and egg rolls.

Dylan hates being that one.

Even _Claire_ was eating a salad, the girl who had used to always stuff her face with gummy worms beside Dylan. But the redhead is slightly content with her steamed rice, until Massie goes and opens her pretty little mouth.

"Dyl, do you really think you need to eat that? Alicia's having a pool party soon, and fat doesn't just fall off when you want it to. It takes time to lose weight."

Kristen cackles as Dylan excuses herself to the ladies room. The freckled girl rushes to the very last stall in the very back of the large bathroom, settling in front of the porcelain bowl. Even the _toilet _was prettier than her. She chokes back a sob, bending over the toilet and shoving a finger down her throat. A wave of relief washes over her as she empties it all out, the Chinese food, her pancake breakfast from that morning, the goldfish she had snuck into her purse before the car ride over here. She's not only emptying the food, but also the guilt and feeling of being unpretty.

When she finishes, heading to the sink to rinse her mouth out, she sees Claire turn the corner swiftly, and all the ugly feelings come running back inside her hungry stomach.

/

After telling the girls she'd get her own ride home, Dylan waits in line at Chanel, and sees Olivia Ryan prance over to her. She has the terrible realization that even Olivia is pretty, the girl who everyone makes fun of. They talk for a while, after Dylan purchases her new bikini- _ugh-_ and soon enough are sitting on one of the posh benches outside of Lacoste.

Olivia had never been a smart girl, always saying the wrong things at the wrong times. Today, she's screwed up yet again, opening her red-lipsticked mouth.

"You can get that fixed, you know. Your nose. I know a great plastic surgeon, and he says he can get that little bump at the bridge out for only like, five thousand. He can probably make your nose way smaller, too."

After handing Dylan a white card with the name and number of a plastic surgeon in Manhattan, she's off, prancing back down the mall corridors. Biting back tears, Dylan stares at the card until her vision gets a little blurry. Maybe it would be a good idea. Maybe the surgeon would be able to give her a nose like her sister's. She tucks the card in the pocket of her shorts, trudging away to the exit to call her mother.

/

Later in June, days away from the pool party, Dylan's standing in front of her bathroom mirror again. She takes it all in, the freckles, the short hair, the fleshy stomach. She pinches the fat on her left thigh, cringing immediately. Her stomach is bloated, full from her last meal, the biggest lunch she had ever eaten in her short thirteen years of life.

Leaning over the toilet once again, she empties it all out. The mashed potatoes, the three servings of barbeque chicken, the green beans, the blue frosting cupcakes, and all the other food she didn't remember eating. All of it reminds her of how horrible and ugly she is.

When she's finished, Dylan curls up on the bathroom rug and cries. Broken sobs, and fat tears of not being good enough.

/

Seeing a movie with her sisters seemed like a good idea at first, but now that Dylan's actually there with the older girls, she's starting to wish she was miles away from that large bag of extra-buttered popcorn. There's also the chocolate that Ryan buys for her.

Before the movie, in the bathroom, Dylan tugs on her shoulder-length hair. She frowns, tugging harder. Her other sister, Ryan, says in her grown-up, matter-of-fact voice, "D, you know that you can get hair extensions. Merri-Lee will buy them for you at the salon."

Dylan nods, ignoring the fact that her sister calls their mother by her real name just to feel older and sophisticated. She turns back towards the mirrors, poking at her nose instead. She tells her sister about Olivia's nose job suggestion. Dylan leaves out the part about how rude Olivia was about her large beak-for-nose. She talks about the pros and cons, wanting as much opinion from her sister as she can possibly get. Ryan is nodding, putting in her own little intakes of information. After a while, Dylan asks the one thing she's been wanting to hear the answer to in a very small whisper.

"Do I need it?"

The silence that follows after kills Dylan.

/

It's that time again, and Dylan's feet are nailed to the ground surrounding Alicia's large swimming pool. On the outside, she's cool and collected. Her insides are blue. She's sucking in as much of the fat of her stomach as she can, folding her arms over the exposed flesh. She sees Massie prancing over to her, wearing a skimpy little yellow two piece. The brunette is fully aware of all the eyes on her lithe body, and she's sure to make everyone know she's a superior breed.

Dylan ignores the petite girl, and instead she turns to face where the boys are huddled by the snack table. Harris Fisher is pointed towards her, his perfect body looking delicious and dripping wet. With a burst of overwhelming confidence, Dylan aims a flirty smile at him when their eyes make contact. He turns to his little brother, Cam, and laughs.

"Oh Dylan," She says, laughing. "Harris is an older boy, he doesn't talk to fat girls. And you've gained what, ten pounds?"

Suddenly, Dylan doesn't feel so confident anymore. She's already running towards the bathroom to do what she does best.

/

It's been days since Dylan last left her house. The guilt and horrible feelings are simply too much for her at such a young age. She finds herself wondering if she'll ever get that good feeling of being pretty and confident, like her friends had. Even though she's so young, Dylan feels as if she's just not good enough. How was she supposed to grow up in this society? Any longer with these feelings and she'd surely not be able to handle it as well as she does now. Not that she handles it well now, but that's only because that's not really plausible to her. Why can't she be pretty like everyone else? Dylan's balled up on her bathroom rug, sniffling and letting little tears make their sad way down her pudgy cheeks. Why is she the only unpretty girl in New York? Her eyes are all red, and she's on her second box of goldfish now.

The white porcelain has never looked so amazing to Dylan before. She runs her hand underneath her nose, and leans over the toilet. It's gotten so bad, she doesn't even have to shove a pudgy finger down her throat anymore. It's instinct now. It all just spills out of her, she has no control anymore.

Noise from the opening door goes unheard, and Dylan doesn't really feel the hands warm on her back. She keeps letting it all out, sobs escaping from her throat every once in a while. She realizes that this hurts, and that there's really no reason to be doing it when all it does is hurt and make her cry. Then, she remembers that _Dylan, it'll make you pretty. _

When she's finished, and _damn it _does it take a a long time, the unpretty redhead looks up to the person whose hands were rubbing her back. She says her sister's name aloud, questioning her reason for being there. Why would her pretty sister want to make someone like pudgy little Dylan feel better? She has no idea why the older girl wants to be in there right now, and is speechless, awed.

"Dylan. You don't need to be doing this, love. I know that growing up is hard for you right now, but this isn't the answer, alright? I'm not telling you to stop, but I'm not telling you it's okay either. I could be like Ryan and Mother, but I won't. I'll tell you one thing, though. You are a beautiful girl, and very pretty in you own way. You're not exactly model-rail-thin, but who wants that? You've got these haunting emerald eyes, and you're really funny too, Dyl Pickle. Just focus on the positive and I can assure you that, after a while, you won't need to do this anymore. Skinny is beautiful, chubby is beautiful, fat is beautiful, blonde is beautiful, brunette is beautiful, _everything_ is beautiful. You are pretty in a beautiful, special way and no one can change that. Just remember that, okay Dylan?"

With that said, the two sisters hug. They hug like sisters are supposed to, with every ounce of love they have in their entire bodies. And Dylan doesn't cry, she doesn't. Because, for the first time in her young life, she feels something good inside. She feels something very good.

Dylan Marvil has _hope._

/


End file.
